


moon tangerine

by jinora



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Keith (Voltron), Domestic Fluff, F/M, oh of course there's a tag for that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 12:03:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15000494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinora/pseuds/jinora
Summary: His grip on his pencil tightens – something switches on – and he turns the page, devouring the exhilarating sight of a fresh, blank canvas. He begins with the familiar, gentle curve of Allura’s cheek.





	moon tangerine

**Author's Note:**

> did someone say keith has artistic talent? also, it wasn't supposed to be this long, considering that nothing actually happens.

Most nights at home are quiet just like this, the singular, amplified sound of a sharp pencil scratching skillfully against a paper surface permeating the room. Time extends, the air stifles with warmth, and the outside world disappears in this space. Late autumn rain patters melancholically against the window, cascading down the glass, blurring city lights into indistinct spots. To Keith, it is white noise, no more distracting than the static buzz of the dull light emanating from the lamp on the nightstand.

He stares blankly at his open sketchbook, propped up against his knee, and distractedly picks at the small binding ring at the edge of the page. The begrudging draft in front of him – a recent landscape commission – is uninspiring. Despite the relatively commonplace subject matter, the strokes feel forced after two concentrated hours and the willow tree still doesn’t look _right_. After impatiently tapping his pencil against the pad, Keith falls back against his pillow in resigned frustration, deciding to leave the draft for a new day.

Without lifting his head, Keith surveys the state of perpetual, accumulated clutter in their room. Old scientific journals stacked on the armchair, discarded drafts and open books scattered on every possible flat surface, he finds stability in the organized disorder. He’ll carry the small mountain of worn sweaters, jeans, socks, and knitted stockings draped over the chair next to the dresser downstairs to wash in the morning. On the opposite nightstand, the unfinished mug of chamomile tea resting on a woolen coaster is nearly cold. Finally, he rolls his head along the edge of his pillow, his eyes falling instantly on the messy spread of silver hair over the thick, white comforter, and a small smile emerges on his tired face.

Allura had fallen asleep over an hour ago after finishing an engrossed review of her most recent lab findings, succumbing to polyatomic basis sets in the end. She’s curled in his direction and buried deep under the blankets, clutching tightly onto the top sheet and revealing just enough of her face to breathe. A remaining token from late evening flirting, the fragile stem of a small, white jasmine flower picked from their potted tree clings loosely behind her ear.

Dreaming of clouds and the sun, she sighs, so softly and pleasantly, and in that instant leaves Keith breathlessly in love with her. His heart, beating furiously, swells with an aching passion. His grip on his pencil tightens – something switches on – and he turns the page, devouring the exhilarating sight of a fresh, blank canvas. He begins with the familiar, gentle curve of Allura’s cheek. Next, sure enough, the flow of her sleepy, disheveled hair is easy, every trace of loose locks and curls precisely drawn. He takes care to match on paper every detail – the angle of her thin, relaxed brows, the plush of her full lips, and the length of her side-swept bangs. She is still the most beautiful girl he has ever seen.

And then she shifts and momentarily stirs, adjusting her head against her pillow and tugging the sheets closer. Allura’s bangs fall forward, and the flower behind her ear drops down. Careful not to let its cool, metallic lining chill her exposed temple, Keith uses the very edge of his pencil to lift the flower back in place. He allows a few moments to pass, until he thinks Allura has fallen back into deep sleep. Then he silently reaches over to gently brush and fix her bangs.

Her sudden, muffled giggle into her pillow startles him, and he abruptly draws his hand back, immense guilt quickly overtaking his conscience.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” he asks quietly, apologetically.

Allura shakes her head, keeping her eyes closed.

“Not really,” she answers wearily, not yet fully awake nor wanting to be. “Are you drawing me because you finished the draft of the commission?”

“Uh.”

“I’ll take that as a no,” Allura laughs airily. She lets go of the sheet and runs her hand affectionately across Keith’s waist, warmly snaking it under his shirt. Locking her arm around him, she pulls herself closer and hides her face against the side of his chest. She inhales deeply, breathing in the faint scent of soap and peppermint.

Keith grins sheepishly and sets down his sketchpad against his raised knee. Adjusting the pencil in his hand, he extends his arm around her, reaches down, and idly combs through Allura’s long hair.

“I got distracted,” he insists. “Something else caught my attention.”

“You couldn’t possibly mean _me_?” Allura teases, speaking into his shirt. She pauses and sighs pleasantly, briefly taking in the slow rhythm and gentle touch of Keith’s fingers running through her hair. Almost reluctantly, she turns her head and looks up at him.

“Let me see.”

Allura pushes herself up, pressing her palms into the bed. Keith’s eyes flicker toward her before he remembers that she’s still wearing his favorite shirt, and he tries to hide his stare as the dark, oversized neckline casually falls off her shoulder, exposing her collarbone. In the act of sitting up, the flower wedged delicately behind Allura’s ear, now pressed and awkwardly bent, falls into his lap. He picks it up and spins the stem between his fingers as Allura eagerly leans over into his space to review his unfinished work.

Her bleary blue eyes study the modest drawing and shyly follow the graphite lines so well-versed in the shape of her. A faint blush spreads across her cheeks and her lips curl upward in a tiny, introspective smile. Keith has drawn her a thousand times, but every version is like this, soft, indulgent, and cherished – the wordless language of his love for her. Allura turns to meet Keith’s indigo eyes, caught in a storm of racing emotions. All she can hear is the fast beating of her heart pounding in her ears.

He’s expecting her reaction and smiles fondly when Allura looks at him. He tilts her chin up ever so slightly, and then he whispers, in the addictive low voice that timelessly sends shivers down her spine, “You’re beautiful.”

Just as Allura cracks a silly grin, ready to tease, Keith captures her lips with his, closing the gap between them and stealing a kiss. When he pulls back a moment later, Allura’s eyes are adorably wide and Keith smirks.

“Not fair,” she pouts.

“How do I make it up to you?” Keith answers without a second thought.

She lifts her hand and grabs his arm in earnest.

“ _Sleep_. It’s so late.”

“Is it?” he genuinely wonders, glancing at the digital clock on their dresser.

Allura snatches the pencil from Keith’s hand before he can protest and leans over to place it on the nightstand. The pencil, still warm from Keith’s hard grip, rolls freely until it’s stopped by the sharp corner of an old notebook. Keith easily concedes, relinquishing his sketchpad to her as she takes it and the jasmine flower from his grasp. Gazing down pensively at her impulsively-drawn likeness, she presses the flower’s petals lightly against her lips. Then Allura lowers the flower, smoothing out its bent edges, and gingerly positions it in a blank corner of the page. She carefully closes the sketchpad with the flower inside, and sets it aside as well, away from their bed.

Watching her attentively, Keith leans back lazily against the headboard, and after she draws back from the nightstand, Allura rests her hand on his thigh. With his two hands, he embraces her face and stares fixatedly at her like she is his entire world. Because she is.

“You’re right. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Suddenly, Allura’s cheeks burn with rising heat and she blushes modestly. She quickly glances away from him, distracting herself enough to suppress a smile, but Keith, knowing Allura’s every quirk and habit, catches her in the act. By the time she looks back at him again, she has overcome her fluster.

“Don’t be so romantic when I’m too tired to fully appreciate it.”

“Then am I allowed to be romantic in the morning?” Keith asks suggestively, releasing her from his hold.

“Depends on how convincing you are,” she responds, as she slowly, enticingly runs her hand up his thigh.

Keith inhales sharply from the motion as Allura gets up on her knees and climbs into his lap, bedsheets peeling away from their bodies. The fresh bite of cold air makes Keith shiver. His rough, artistic hands find Allura’s slender waist and pull her forward as she assertively grabs his head, eyeing his lips for the briefest of moments, and kisses him deeply, breathtakingly like a shower of a thousand stars. Keith kisses her back, parting lips and intensifying their shared desire. She fiercely tangles her fingers into his hair and Keith reaches out to the nightstand, hastily feeling for the lamp switch, colliding with his pencil that falls to the floor.

The lights go out. In the heady darkness, the sound of heavy rain drums in the distant background. Allura’s snow white hair, reflecting light and faintly glowing, absorbs outside luminescence from the window. Keith toys with the idea of reclaiming his shirt and slides his hands underneath the thin cotton, then possessively up Allura’s back. Allura smirks at the heated touch, and before Keith’s hands can go any higher, she abruptly breaks off the kiss and yanks him down into bed with her, twisting at an angle and letting herself fall on her back.

Keith grunts in mild frustration and Allura giggles, scrambling to return to the head of the bed. As soon as she rolls onto her back, Keith climbs on top of her, seizing and throwing the comforter over them at the same time. Flashing an unsuspecting grin, Allura looks up at him impishly, only to meet Keith’s soft, infatuated eyes gazing down intently at her.

They take her breath away.

Just like they had when she first agreed to marry him, that one night at home after she had graduated. And countless times before and since.

She returns his entrancing gaze with a shy smile, but her eyes burn from exhaustion. She reaches up and timidly cups his cheek. Keith responds with an affectionate smile of his own. His head droops down then, and his wavy, unkempt black hair covers his dark shining eyes from her line of sight. He leans in as Allura slowly wraps her arms around him, and he presses his lips against the crevice of her neck.

“Trust me,” he says quietly while indolently peppering kisses up her neck, “I can be very persuasive.”

Allura bites her lip, forcing down an indicative smile as she clutches and digs into the back of his shirt in response.

“Oh, I _know_.”


End file.
